


Cold Lie the Dead Who Visit the King

by mintedstar (forevermint)



Series: Sinner's Coffin [2]
Category: Norse Mythology - Neil Gaiman, Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:26:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25166923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forevermint/pseuds/mintedstar
Relationships: Hel & Loki
Series: Sinner's Coffin [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1823164





	Cold Lie the Dead Who Visit the King

In the land of those touched by Coldbreath, there was a line of frozen roots that arched over the valley, creating a ceiling of mesh, blocking out any light from the above world. Crystal icicles crawled along their gnarled bark. Each trailed down into the world of the dead, creating something almost beautiful. The ground below was dark, pitch dark, with white stone here and there to break up the dreary landscape. There were no stars.   
Coldbreath looked up, head tilting, as she studied the roots and the ice forming on them. Each tilt of her head caused a very different effect from anyone watching. And someone was watching, though Coldbreath didn't pay much mind to him. The light of his soul had steadily dimmed the longer he stayed with her. What was to be expected of the soul of a god? The further he was away from the World Tree's power - the branches and the sunlight - the more he dimmed. Either way, he was hers now. One of her army of the dead, whether he desired to be or not. All souls were hers, as Farsight had punished her. Like her father. Like her brothers.  
Anyway, since the god's arrival, he hadn't been very talkative. Coldbreath didn't blame him, but she thought her father might have sent her a better gift. The god of light was only useful when he illuminated.   
That didn't seem possible right now, however. Right now, he just served to irritate her eyes a little.  
She wondered if her face intimidated him. He had been sitting in that corner for a long time. Her muzzle twisted, casting an odd effect over her skin and fur. She was a beautiful cat if looked at from the left side, but along her right, there were only picked clean white bones. Her gaze at the ceiling wasn't hindered by the lack of a right eye. In fact, she could see far better from that "eye" than her other. With it, she was able to see the message, hanging from the ceiling along with the ice. A trail of light.   
She stood, stretching her paws against the dark ground and bone-white rocks. The open valley was deserted of the dead for now. That might change if Ragnorak was so close.  
"Where are you going?" asked the silent gold stone of a cat. His voice held a touch of interest. It was more than he usually gave to her.  
"To visit with my father," was all she answered. Her tail twitched as she walked away, eyes focused on the trail of light from above. Light isn't native to this place of the dead. It's likely then, that it must be a message of some sort. Her father didn't usually contact her.  
The trail out of the depths of the world tree's roots is a long one. Coldbreath does not usually make this trek, but she does it now.   
Her father was imprisoned by the gods. If he can reach out to her, that must mean he has escaped. And if that is the case, then he will need her help.  
The world of the living is bright, too bright for Coldbreath. She huddles close to the earth as soon as she emerges. The earth that the world tree rests on is hardly lighter than the night sky on Earth, but still, it burns her and she hisses. Stars tumble around her, big and small. It has been many thousands of years since she had walked the world. Not since she had been cast down here.  
It takes her a bit to get used to the bright light, but then she has to turn her attention to the tree. It is impossible for even the deities who reside in it to truly understand it. Instead, she and so many before her have to do their best.  
She unsheathes her claws and leaps upward, her claws aimed for the bark, to pull herself up.  
...  
When she comes to stand on Earth, it is with the view of the sea. It stretched ahead of her. The bark of the World tree disappears, the trunk was now gone. It's like this world floats in isolation, keeping its inhabitants away from their deities themself. Coldbreath chuckles and turns. She knows where she is. This is the land of the mortals. Her father has likely blended into them like the cunning trickster was always want to do. But always so alone.   
She follows the lines of the sea until it slowly rises away from it, becoming windswept cliffs. It is only when the trees also come, hugging the edges of the crumbling rock, that she finds Silverspeaker's hiding place.   
She stands outside of the hollow, the tree roots which outline the makeshift den so much smaller here than the ones which roofed her valley.  
"Father?" she inquires, chin lifting.   
Something shifts within the depths and after a second a ginger tabby she-cat emerges from the hollow. Her eyes are green and wide, looking at Coldbreath with surprise. She is shorter than the goddess of death. But she still tilts her head in a way a kitten might. The only differences were this kitten has a line of scars around her muzzle of old claws and her fur is a bit ragged in places. There's a haunted look in those eyes as well.  
"Father," said Coldbreath again, this time in greeting rather than a question. She bows her head. "I am glad to see that you are free."  
When she raises her head, it is a silver tabby in the place of the ginger kit. Her tail flicks, eyes focusing on Coldbreath.   
"It was only a matter of time. My brother," she spat the word, "cannot hold his spells forever. He will pay for that. But ..." her voice softened. "... that isn't why you are here, my dear Coldbreath."  
Some weight lifts from Silverspeaker's shoulders and she nuzzles her daughter's ear. In better days, pleasantries might have been exchanged, but not now. Better days were many thousands of years in the past.   
"I am sorry I could not rescue you, father," Coldbreath half-whispered.   
Silverspeaker's tail flicked. "It is not your fault. There is something different in your future."  
Coldbreath nods and glances around. It is out to the sea she finally looks. It looks like the sea of the gods. She remembers it from when she was a kitten. Now it isn't a fond memory as it could have been."  
"What did you want me to do?" she asked, looking back at her father. She didn't think she had ever see Silverspeaker look so convicted. Coldbreath had never seen her so alone. Hiding on Earth, wearing the pelt of a kitten and who knew what else to stay out of the attention of the gods who had imprisoned her. It wasn't a life.  
But Silverspeaker doesn't seem to mind this. Instead, she angles her ears forward.  
"We fight of course."  
Coldbreath tilted her head. "Ragnarok, you mean," she asked. It was a statement. Silverspeaker nodded. The hollow look in her eyes was still there, deep and bright.  
"With your kingdom of the dead and the allies I gather, we can do it. We can gain a [i]home[/i] again, Coldbreath."  
The words twisted in Coldbreath's gut. That was the hollow look she could see in Silverspeaker's eyes. It was hope. She was clinging onto it. She'd lost the only family she'd had when the gods had cast her out and imprisoned her. Separated from the few kittens that she had left, separated for years from the ones who she had poured so much attention into. She wanted that back. Coldbreath didn't blame her.  
"You want the kingdom of Farsight," she said. "Even knowing what is coming?" Coldbreath couldn't keep the disappointment out of her voice.  
"How else can we ever be free," Silverspeaker asked, her voice suddenly growing harsh. Coldbreath didn't flinch. She knew that Silverspeaker spoke with emotions even when she had more control over them then it appeared.  
"You would risk the prophesied end of Ragnarok?"  
Silverspeaker froze a little, her hollow eyes suddenly growing just a bit uncertain.  
"We don't know the details of the end," she said. "Farsight doesn't see fit to share them with us."  
Us. Coldbreath noted the word and she noted the pain. Even after the years that Silverspeaker had been tortured, close to death at Farsight's paws, she still counted herself among "us."  
"You'd risk dying?" Coldbreath asked instead. Silverspeaker's fur was forced flat. She leaned forward, nose brushing against Coldbreath's muzzle.  
"If I just die," she murmured. "Then I guess I'll finally make it to your kingdom below the World Tree. At least then I have more peace than Farsight has ever allowed me."  
Coldbreath sighed, taking a step back. She dipped her head. "You have my army," she said to her father. "I hope you're right. I hope that home is somehow possible for us."


End file.
